


Senses

by SecondSilk



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-13
Updated: 2010-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondSilk/pseuds/SecondSilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus had bruises only Sirius could see, but there are other senses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Senses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Topaz_Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Eyes/gifts).



> The first drabble in this sequence is published separately as "Bruises".

Remus had never been one to bruise visibly. Physical scratches were red and angry, but healed too quickly for the patterns of fading blue and yellow that James and Sirius showed off around the school from time to time. And he had always tried to be approachable, unfazed, conciliatory, nice; no-one knew if they had offended him or not. Most people were pleasant, if polite. The exceptions were Severus, who treated his behaviour with an suspicious respect, and Sirius who had always demanded a reaction, had always forced Remus to state his opinion, had been able to see the bruises.

When Sirius suddenly, finally died, Remus had thought that he would have only Severus's suspicion to remind him of the joy of being seen. But this time without Sirius was different to the last time. There were people who understood his mourning; Molly cooked, Moody nodded solemnly, the twins were quiet. The photos of Sirius remained on his mantelpiece, watching him move through the house with tea or novel or robes. Tonks sat beside him at the Order the meetings, her shoulder turned as though she were waiting for him to speak. She would listen, even when he said nothing.

As boys, past the age of fourteen they rarely touched each other past the comforting, careful, clap on the shoulder the morning after the moon. Sirius often used his dog form as an excuse to curl up beside them. Shock was the only thing Remus felt the first time Tonks touched him, a comforting and careful hand on his shoulder in a meeting, facing Snape's smug, sardonic sneer. She touched each of the scars on his body, with fingers, eyes and lips. She touched the other marks only in avoiding them, which touched Remus's heart more than he could say.

Tonks teased him about the amount of dust on the photo frames; he informed her that books create dust. She argued that the curtains were a strange colour; he argued that you couldn't see what colour they were in the dark. She said he tasted of tea and grief; and laughed with tears in her eyes when he told her she tasted of the future. It was the sort of conversation that suited him better than it did her; just as he wore their argument badly. But however badly her hair, eyes, robes clashed; he loved how they suited her.

He woke in the small hours of the morning to find Tonks wrapped around him. Her hair was dark in the gloomy light and tickled his nose. He twisted searching for a more comfortable position; she snuggled against him, smiling. He took a deep breath, prepared to move away, and breathed in her smell, soft and feminine and sleepy. Some deep part of him sighed, in relief, not regret, and possible joy at the recognition that this was the sent of home. He tucked an arm around her, rested his cheek on her hair, and sunk slowly back to sleep.


End file.
